


Einn

by butterflykeyboard



Series: 37th Parallel [2]
Category: EXID (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - War, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 20:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11836266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflykeyboard/pseuds/butterflykeyboard
Summary: Einn - from Old Norse ("one", "alone")A soldier fights not because she hates what is in front of her, but because she loves who is beside her.Or, will EXID return from the war?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to SB for proofreading.

A familiar feeling settles on the back of Jeonghwa's neck. Something like a cool breath. Not the prickling of fright, but something that flows down her back and through her limbs, something that makes it feel natural to stand so still, despite the chill in the air and the weight of the rifle in her hands.

Bored, she turns to glance at her bandmates, each one of them snug in their jackets on the chairs behind her. An enthusiastic thumbs up from Hyerin, a smile from Solji, another one of Hani's dork faces, and then there was Hyojin with a confident smirk that turned to a grin, as if she knew Jeonghwa had won them the gold medal already.

She hears the crack of a rifle fire, and the hole punched in the target downrange. A nine. Not bad. A quick glance shows her competitor’s reaction – there’s an expression of frustration on Eunha’s face. "Ahhh....it's so heavy!" Eunha exclaims, arms straining under the weight of the rifle before she lets go, letting it hang from her shoulders by the strap. 

Jeonghwa raises the rifle, nestling the stock into her shoulder. She steadies her grip on the forend, and once comfortable, focuses on her breathing, her hands now still. In. Out. In. Out. In. Hold.

She pulls the trigger.

Bullseye.

Cheering erupts all around her as she sets the weapon down. Forcing a smile onto her face, she knows the cameras are focusing on her right now. She has to force a smile, because this just isn't the same as one of their old ISAC wins. There's a reason they're using rifles this year and not bows, and there's a reason for the ROK armed forces posters all around the arena.

But she's gotten very good at pretending now. Keeping her smiling mask affixed, she turns around to let her members swarm her, to exchange hugs, to shout out and show off their victory - for the cameras, yes, but also for themselves. Hands in the air, smiles on their faces, arms around each other. This, at least, is genuine.

 

///

 

The lobby is too warm for her coat, but she keeps it on anyway – she should be just passing through, but something’s keeping her friend held up. She hadn't seen him happy in a while, but she didn't feel like mentioning it. Still, he at least manages a smile as he hands over what she was waiting for – a long black bag, and a box of bullets.

The heating didn't extend to the range area, meaning she had to load her magazine with gloved fingers. Not that it was a problem for her – she could probably do it blindfolded now, if she had to. That was the beauty of it, really. It was motion, it was something right in front of her that she could focus on. It was a little like dancing, a set of repetitive motions that she'd committed to memory. But dancing didn't have the same appeal any more - not with the way the world was now. She envied Heeyeon and Hyerin, and the way they could pretend everything was alright. Even Hyojin and Solji had something to throw themselves into, which left her with what? The group? They were still a group, they were all still friends, but their bond had never felt more fragile. Not when there was less and less time on the airwaves for music shows as everyone stayed glued to the news. Not when she saw the chart numbers going down - not just for them, but for every group. It was getting harder for everyone to pretend. And now that comeback they were promised seemed so far away.

It wasn't work or money she was worried about - she had that, an acting gig there, the occasional TV spot, or CF shoot. It was the fact that everything she thought she wanted was becoming hollow and empty. But this - sitting in her seat, slotting bullets into a mag - this was perfectly mindless. She could lose herself in this. She did lose herself, and that was what she wanted. When she had nothing else to return to, this had become her escape. Raise. Steady. Breathe. Fire. Breathe. Fire.

With a click the bolt slid back into place, the last cartridge clattering on the concrete floor of the range. Setting the weapon aside to cool, she started to pack away the empty magazines first when she looked up to see someone watching. Today was different. It wasn't her friend in army greens. It was someone very familiar - black jeans, long coat, dark eyeliner. Ahn Hyojin.

"Oh. Hi."

"Hi." Hyojin was just staring, as if expecting Jeonghwa to explain herself. But there wasn't  anything to explain. "Hey, you listening? We're worried about you."

"Why?" she shoots back, voice even. Of all the crazy things happening - to the them, to their country, an idol at a shooting range should be the least of their worries.

"Aish. Have you seen the news?"

"Yes." Her next words surprised even her. "I mean, it's why I'm here."

"You can't be serious. You're not actually going to - "

"Of course not.” Looking back on it, the fact that she couldn't muster all of her conviction should have been a sign. But at the time, she believed it. "I mean - it's not like there's much else to do, you know? And it’s relaxing.”

She returns the rifle to its case, and then the case to her friend at the counter before she leaves, Hyojin falling in beside her as they exit the building. "I thought I told you I was coming here? There’s no need to worry, unnie. It’s just something to fill the time.”

"Well – yeah. We all practiced for that competition, but I didn't think you'd actually keep going to the range. Where did you even get the gun anyway?"

"Family friend got a job there after he did his service. I went there to practice before the competition too.” She sits down in the back of the car, taking care to shut the door softly – Hani was out cold in the front passenger seat. “You know, it's actually quite relaxing. You should try it."

"Not when I have to drive all the way out here," was Hyojin’s retort as she started the engine.

"Come on, it's not that far. You're just being stingy. I bet you'd be really good too. You probably had a gun when you were underground, right? Remember, you're not meant to hold it sideways - "

"Be glad that I'm backing out right now, else I'd hit you. Ah - Hani's still asleep so she can't slap some sense into you."

Heeyeon stirred from her seat, mumbling to herself as she grabbed blindly. "What's this? Who am I slapping?"

 

///

 

She was at Hyojin’s when it happened. Just like any other day, really.

Her phone buzzes, and she’s about to swipe to see it when she pauses. Hyojin’s phone on the kitchen counter buzzes as well, at exactly the same time. That’s odd. It’s the message on the screen turns her to ice on the spot. It takes her at least a minute to rush to the TV and turn it on – and now the news was all over that screen.

“Hyojin, Hyojin you need to see this! Right now!” she screams, panic rising in her throat. The door bursts open a second later, Hyojin running over at speed.

“Jeonghwa! Is everything – “

She points to the TV. And she sees the end of her world as she knows it.


	2. Chapter 2

She’s lost track of what is normal now. There was this time of panic, and fear, and almost despair that must have lasted what, a week? And then the roads out of Seoul started to clear, and the southern cities filled up, and things were almost normal again. Except for the rolling blackouts, and the rationing, and the days she spends at her family’s cramped home doing nothing but watching the news and fussing over the vegetable plot.

She’s learning to live with the fear, that constant buzz that keeps her restless. She doesn’t know what exactly she’s afraid of, only that she’s on edge. Her family’s here, south enough that there’s no danger. She even has her unnies too – her phone buzzes with group chat notifications at least once a day. They’re not even saying that much – there’s not that much to talk about beyond the daily mundanity. In one of her more morbid moments, she realises they’re really just checking in to say they’re still alive.

But there is one think that makes this so much easier. It’s Ahn Hyojin – just sitting on her family’s couch, or watering the garden with her, or cleaning out the hallway cupboard, or whatever domestic activity has been chosen to fill the day hours. And at night, they all eat around the same table, her parents, her brother, and Hyojin sitting across from her. When she doesn’t have to wash the dishes, she dances – Hyojin plays whatever music she’s been writing, and the dance between couch and the TV, trying not to fall over each other in the confined space.

Life is simpler now. And if she only focuses on tomorrow, she can ignore the world around her, ignore what’s happening hundreds of miles to the north.

 

///

 

Her friend, the one that worked at the range, he was the first. She got his text at some ungodly hour in the morning, and only when the sun was up did she read the message.

_I’m off – you know why. My friend already knows about you, so you can pop in whenever you want. Door code’s changed to 4592, cage code is the same as always. Don’t break anything while I’m gone._

It was a nice sentiment, but with the fuel rationing in effect, she wasn’t sure how she was going to get out there. As always, Hyojin was the answer to her problems - after the usual grocery run, she’d managed to convince her to make a little detour.

The range was a bit of gloomy building, but it had its own charm to it. Somehow familiarity had made the concrete box endearing in its own way. The crunch of the gravel in the corner parking spot, the one creaky hinge on the front door, the rattling of the security shutters…she could picture herself entering before she even left her seat.

“You aren’t going to sit in the car, are you?” she asked, turning to her driver.

Hyojin gives her a look, raising her phone. “Well, since you mentioned it…”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Blow off some steam, you know. Come on, come on…” With that she left the car, heading to open up for the morning. The sounds of boots behind her let her know that her unnie was following along behind her.

She leads the way as she opens up the range – the two sets of doors in the entry, another door to get behind the counter, and of course there’s the cage where they keep everything locked away. It’s certainly more bare than when she was last here, but there’s plenty of rifles and boxes of rounds.

Now she had to set up for two – a rifle and a box for each of them. “You remember how to load your mags, right?”

Hyojin just shrugged, examining one of the bullets closely before slotting it into the magazine she was holding. “Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

She looks up from her loading, fingers still slotting bullets in, and realises that Hyojin’s staring at her. “What?”

“Ah – never mind. Load some of mine for me, would you?” Hyojin asks with a smirk. Ever eager to show off, she does it while staring her unnie down, wearing a smirk on her face.

“Sure. Anything else?”

“Showoff….” Hyojin grumbles in reply – though the smile on her face betrays her real feelings.  “Can you give me some tips?” she asks.

She loves this game they play. The one where she gets to be old and wise and Hyojin can be silly and dumb. “Remember our ISAC practice? Breathe out before you fire. And stop moving your hand – no, don’t put it there.” She presses into Hyojin’s back, and moves her unnie’s hands for her – a little further up on the handgrip, a little tighter around the foregrip. “Better. Now, legs further apart – “ she says, bending down to grab onto Hyojin’s thigh. “There we go.”

Hyojin turns, gives her a look. It should be the same one she always gives, the one where she doesn’t want to say thanks with her mouth, so she says it with her eyes. Jeonghwa just smiles back as sweet as she knows, stepping back to let Hyojin free fire.

///

There’s only four of them around the table that night, the only sounds the clink of metal on china and the chewing on cold noodles and vegetables. And when they’re done, her parents leave the table with nary a word.

“They took him.”

“What do you mean? Didn’t he say he was going to volunteer?”

“I mean, he said he was ready. Packed his bags, and all that, and he got on the truck…but I don’t think he wanted to go at all, as much as he said he did.”

“Don’t give me that look. No, no, no, you are not to even think about this. And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m his older sister.”

“You’re also a woman.”

“One who’s spent more time with a gun than he ever has. It’s a waste not to go, not when I can shoot even better than my old instructor.”

“You’re serious?” Hyojin had straightened up now, leaning forward with a glare in her eyes.

“I’m not helping anyone by staying here. Our country needs – “

“Your family needs you. They’ve already given their son. Are you going to make them give their daughter too?”

Those words were a stab to her chest – a pain shooting through her that brought the first tears to her eyes. “Haven’t you seen the news? ‘Emergency Draft Measure 381’. I’m done with waiting, I’m done sitting around. I’m going tomorrow.”

“You’re not going.”

“Wait, what are you saying?”

“What do you mean, why? Because as much as you want to play soldier, you’re still an idol?“

“What gives the right to decide for me, Ahn Hyojin?”

“Because – because I don’t know what I’d do without you!”

She didn’t have a retort to that at all. Hyojin didn’t seem to have anything to say either. Yet her expression stayed stern, no regret, no faltering – it seemed Hyojin meant what she said. Struggling for something to say, she just stared, Hyojin glaring back at her –

And then the spell was broken, and her unnie had flung her arms around Jeonghwa, holding her tight. As if this was going to be their last embrace. “Don’t go. Don’t go.”

 

///

 

Dawn had not broken yet by the time she stepped out onto the street – and saw a figure there waiting for her. Ahn Hyojin. She must have snuck out before her.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

She wrapped her arms around Hyojin, as her unnie did the same to her.

 

///

 

“Cease fire!”

The echoes of the rifles take a second to dissipate, and then the range falls silent. Jeonghwa lowers her rifle, just like the those at the stations beside hers. Someone’s calling her – loud enough that she can still hear their voice under her earmuffs.

“Park!”

The training sergeant is here – a hardy man, looking like he was cut from the massive trees that surround the camp. His thick arms certainly look like logs. Right now, he’s accompanied by someone else, a man so unremarkable as to be remarkable. The men and women training here aren’t the cream of the crop – else they would have gone north already. This man looks like a proper soldier, ramrod straight and muscled beneath his army greens. The insignia on his shoulder marks him as a sergeant too, but he’s missing unit patches that might tell her where he’s from. Despite all this, her training sergeant seems to showing him a fair amount of deference. Hyojin seems to have heard as well, turning to face the two, stepping forward as if to confront them.

Before Jeonghwa turns on the spot and salutes, she tries to wave her unnie back. She’s probably not in trouble. And if she was, what was Hyojin going to do about it?

“Sir?”

 “Hand over your rifle, Park.”

She gives it up, and receives another in return. Not the one of the reliable old K2 assault rifles she’s been using. This one is different – a long barrel, larger stock, large scope mounted on top, painted woodland camo instead of black. A sniper’s weapon.

The newcomer speaks now. “Your new assignment.” Walking over to a table set up at the range, he picks up a similar rifle and shows her the parts. “You’ve got some talent, Private. Let’s put it to good use.”

She sits down at the table, listens to the him as he shows her how to pull it apart, her fingers feeling out each part.

Learning a new dance is always fun.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't stage fright. Stage fright was a fluttering in her stomach, a fidgeting that spread from her core out to shaking limbs. This was a cold feeling on the back of her neck that settled in the pit of her stomach and stayed there, weighing her down and leaving her frozen in place, even her fingers refusing to move.

"Park. Park, are you alright?" Her spotter's voice was a harsh whisper close by. "Take the shot. What are you waiting for - "

She wasn't listening to him. She was listening to the radio. "Everyone down! Enemy position, ten o'clock high!" There’s shouting, gunfire. And then there was a scream, more panicked shouting. "He's hit! He's hit!" Everything was moving too fast and too slow at the same time, her heart racing even as the voices in her ear came through slow and distorted.

Then she hears a voice that cuts through the fog, clear on the radio. It wasn't rare to hear a female voice on the military channels any more. But it was that voice. The same one that scolded her when she messed up her notes on stage, the one that was the first to call and wish her happy birthday, the one she'd heard in the barracks just the other day. Ahn Hyojin.

She slams her finger down hard on the trigger. Without her grip properly steadied, she immediately knows she’s missed. Not that it really matters for her target. Instead of a clean shot to the head, there’s a blast of red spray from her target's arm, the impact tossing him like a doll before dumping him on the ground. With the booming fire of the dead man's machine gun silenced, all can she can hear is the sound of her rifle ringing in her ears, even with her earplugs in.

Her conscious mind doesn’t register much at all – not thinking, simply moving with what her training told her body to do. Hand on bolt, pull, push, down, hand on trigger. Steps in a dance she could do in her sleep. Breathe. Hold. And fire.

The second shot is clean, the bullet boring straight through the forehead of her target. By now the enemy has at least a little idea where they are, ducking down behind their barricade. This lets their soldiers take up better positions, laying down heavy suppression, the cracks and booms of the distant fire bouncing off the buildings, filling the air in the valley.

With her spotter already watching for reinforcements, she can chamber the next round at her leisure as she scans for her next target. And she finds one, in an officer barking into his radio, moving from cover to cover. She places her crosshair and waits for him to run, letting instinct guide her. Her third, her third is perfect. Straight through the neck, no mess, no fuss, her target simply tripping forward, a puppet with no more strings. And for a moment, she can glimpse the grim satisfaction of a killer. The first kill was gruesome, and would keep her up for nights. The third would haunt her daydreams instead.

Their leader dead, the enemy begins to retreat, falling back into the tangle of concrete that stretches out in front of her. Soon their soldiers’ guns fall silent too, leaving their echoes to fade away.

"Let's move out."

She can hear an edge in her spotter's voice. Is he pissed, or just running on adrenaline from combat? There’s something different about him, but her answer will have to wait.

 

///

 

She can feel a prickling running through her limbs - something wasn't right. It wasn't the bumpy helicopter ride back - it was something else.

The feeling continued, even when she'd stashed  her gear and crashed onto her bunk. Lying still didn't make it better. It made it worse, because she was suddenly aware of everything that was just plain wrong - her breath, her heart, and fuck, her head just hurt so much. She couldn't lie down, she needed to move, to do something. But even with all this pent-up energy it was somehow still a struggle to peel herself off her bunk. Her weak legs carried her forward, tugging the rest of her along for the ride. The bathroom. Yes, that seemed like a good idea.

She was making good progress towards the sink when her condition made a turn for the worse. Her hands scrabbled on the wall of the bathroom stall before she collapsed over the toilet. Her stomach heaved, rolling and unsteady. Her last meal came up, the thin gruel even more disgusting coming up than going down. But the retching didn't stop as her body shuddered, rejecting her last meal as her vision started to blur.

Two hands landed on her shoulders, pulling her away from the porcelain bowl. "Hey, I'm here. I'm here."

"D-don't get too close. My breath stinks."

"Ahhh....seriously. Let's get you cleaned up." Hyojin's arms wrapped around her waist and hauled her to her feet, both of them stumbling over to the sink. The mirror showed her what a mess she was, tears rolling down pale cheeks. Not that Hyojin was made up any better - smoke and dirt marked her face, and blood seeped from a shallow cut on her unnie’s left cheek. Cold water proved to be the cure for her retching, and Hyojin’s hands on her shoulders helped with her shivering.

“That was you today, right? On my patrol?”

“Yeah.”

“Were they your first?”

“Yeah.” Her first. First of how many?

“Thanks. For saving my life.”

Thanks. Thanks for being there, for sticking with the group, for bringing me a coffee, for waiting for me after practice, for picking me up when I’m down – every time it had meant something, every previous time she could manage a smile, a ‘you’re welcome’, something.

But now she couldn’t do it. She could barely feel anything.

 

///

 

Another day, another patrol, another mission. More rounds fired, more targets spotted and marked, more death witnessed through the glass of her scope. She pushed the cleaning rod through the barrel one more time, clearing the fouling from it before she gets to work on reassembling.

This is her third rifle, and she can recall the meeting where it was given like she just walked out of it. Her spotter was there, standing by the remarkable unremarkable man from training. They said that she had talent. She had potential. That women and men like her were going to be the ones winning this war. That she needed the best tools for the job. So she was given a ten thousand dollar rifle, brought in from  the US, and a stack of larger calibre bullets. And told to keep killing, though in different words.

It’s not the killing that’s bothering her. It’s that nothing bothers her, the days and nights all blending together. Dealing with the same shit, just on different days – something in her has broken, and she doesn’t know how to fix it. When was the last time she felt happy, or sad, or angry? When was the last time she felt anything?

The alternative – that she was always this way, that this is who she is, is a far more disturbing possibility. One that she doesn’t want to consider. So she turns back to her task, finishing her cleaning just as she hears footsteps behind her. It’s Ahn Hyojin again.

“Are you alright?”

She doesn’t answer – just regarding Hyojin with a stare, even as her unnie continues her questions. “You haven’t been talking much.”

“Can I ask you a question, unnie?”

Hyojiin nods.

“What are you fighting for?”

“You.” There it is, without any hesitation.

“And nothing else?”

“What else matters?”

That’s a good a reason as any to keep on going.


	4. Chapter 4

 “Going evasive!”

The helicopter banks, rolls, something – all she knows is that she’s being thrown about in her seat. It’s not all that dissimilar to a rollercoaster ride. Except that she can see the trees rush by beneath them, see the look of fear on the soldier sitting opposite her. The chopper dives, and for a moments she’s weightless – before being rammed back into her seat as they pull out of the dive. The next turn slams her into Hyojin’s shoulder as they bank, turning at speed.

There’s an explosion – not of the missile, but of bright white lights around the heli as it launches flares, blazing white wings of smoke behind it as it banks hard. Its target lost, the missile flies past, its rocket motor leaving a trail of hot smoke through the sky. Their helicopter levels out, and her stomach falls back into place to let her breathe a sigh of relief. The moment doesn’t last long.

“Where the hell did they go?”

The answer is a burst of cannon fire, the heavy bullets tearing through the roof of the chopper – and its insides, punching holes through machinery and bodies alike. She barely has time to register the blood spatter before the helicopter starts to spin, its engines screaming as the pilot tries to keep it under control. For a moment all she sees out the side of the chopper is the sky – and then the treetops rushing up to meet her.

 

///

 

For a moment, primal fear grips her body. Has she been wounded? Bleeding, broken bones, something worse? No – it’s more of a general bruising and battering all over than pain in any specific body part. Taking a breath to calm herself, Jeonghwa opens her eyes, her vision clearing to show her the inside of the chopper – wedged tight between two trees, nose planted in the ground to tilt her forward in her seat. And with less people in the passenger compartment. That’s…not good.

At least her harness release is working. Freeing herself from her seat, the first thing she grabs is her rifle, and that gets checked before anything else does. She plants her boots on solid ground and just stands there listening. There’s no choppers buzzing overhead, no roar of a jet’s engines, no rumbling of enemy armour. Just the creaking of metal expanding and shrinking, the crackling of a few small fires. And – someone groaning.

“Everyone alright?” she asks.

There’s a voice from the cockpit. “Yeah….mostly. Hurts, but nothing I can’t handle. I, I – don’t think Deng made it – “

She sees some bodies thrown clear of the wreckage, sees one of them facedown by the squad’s machine gun. Please, please don’t be –

And then the body moves, Hyojin getting to her feet with a groan – thankfully, only marked with dirt and snow. “What the hell was that? We were in the clear…”her friend asks. Like her, Hyojin checks her weapon first - that her machine gun is all in one piece, checking that all her bullets are accounted for.

The answer comes from their pilot – having extracted himself from the cockpit, the man’s still wearing his flight helmet – now with a crack running across its black visor. “That fighter had to use cannon once we evaded their missile…they must have been depleted from a sortie. That’s the only reason we’re not scattered in a hundred pieces over this goddamn forest.”

“Who survived?”

So begins the grim task of checking each body. She knows these people – either from down scope, or from the base, or over the radio. She at least has the advantage of detachment. For Hyojin, these are the people she has fought beside for weeks on end. Knows everything about them, from the way they tie their boots to how they eat their rations.

“I – I think it’s just us four. Well - ” Hyojin turns to the one of them still strapped into the chopper. It’s her spotter.

She moves over to him and tries the buckle on his harness, but it doesn’t budge. It’s only as she draws her knife to cut through the straps that she notes him shaking his head. She can see now – he’s literally draining onto the floor, a sheet of red spilling down the metal floor of the chopper, what’s left of it anyway. The straps of his seat are the only thing holding the blood inside him, it seems, and they’re not exactly bandages.

“We need to move. Right now.” Hyojin states. As if to make a point, the sound of rotors can be heard. Somewhere out there, the hunt has begun.

“We’re just going to leave him here?” The pilot – what was his name, Hoyang, or something asks.

“Don’t have much choice. It’s at least five k until we’re out of enemy territory and even have a hope of getting picked up.”

“I agree. We don’t have time to debate.” It’s funny, isn’t it? A pull of a trigger can sentence a man to death. But it’s the words demanding it that have the real power.

Her spotter answers by pointing a bloody finger at the man opposite him – dead in his seat, a piece of shrapnel in his head. He’s pointing at the grenade hanging on the soldier’s combat vest. She hands her spotter the grenade, his fingers leaving red prints on the lever as he holds it close. “Sir – “

He doesn’t have any last words, just looking up at her to nod. He knows more than anyone else just how much she’s learned.

“Let’s get moving. It’s a long walk home.”

She doesn’t look behind her as she marches forward, leaving the dead and dying to their fate.

 

///

 

It doesn’t take long for them to hear it – a boom, off in the distance. Coming from the direction of their crash site.

It’ll slow the enemy down, but she knows it won’t be nearly enough for them to escape. And surely enough, she hears the enemy first, boots kicking their way through brush. The enemy doesn’t have to be subtle – in fact, it’s might even be better for them to be heard, to drive them faster forward into a trap. Still, the three of them have no choice but to keep moving.

And then she hears voices. Korean. Pyongyang accent.

“What was that?”

“White team, do you copy? What happened?”

There’s the buzz of a radio, more chatter she can’t hear. Next to her, Hyojin and the pilot, Hoyang, have both frozen on the spot. She points to the crest of a nearby hill, and getting down on her belly, slowly crawls forward until she can see over the ridge.

It’s not even a full squad below them – just a team of five in standard delta formation. But they’re sweeping in the wrong direction, moving directly away from the crash site – and right past the three of them.

Holding up five fingers, she points to a fallen tree nearby, the perfect cover for her unnie and that machinegun she carries. Both Hyojin and the pilot start to move, creeping forward –

She hears the fallen branch crack, and it’s almost as loud as a gunshot, echoing throughout the forest. The five soldiers she can see immediately turn on the spot, raising their weapons –

She sights in on one, and at this range it’s impossible to miss. She fires, and her shot hits just below and to the right of his left eye, the bullet obliterating flesh and bone before it hits his brain stem. Within a fraction of a second his body is paralysed, collapsing onto the forest floor. Her fingers are already moving, chambering the second bullet as another one of the soldiers below looks towards her place on the ridge.

Before she can bring his weapon to bear on her, she watches three red ragged holes appear on his chest, Hyojin opening fire, machine gun chattering as she sweeps across the grouped enemies. A lucky shot hits another one’s neck, her rifle firing wildly before she too hits the snow, red spattering over white. Number four takes a solid burst in the chest from Hoyang’s rifle.

The last one starts to flee, turning around and heading down into the gully. But before he can even make it behind the first tree, she has another round loaded. With no hesitation she shoots him in the back of his head. His brain exits his body as a fine mist, leaving his body to tumble down the hill like a toy.

With the snow-capped trees around her, the sound of shots doesn’t echo for very long. Her ears are just re-acclimatising to the silence when it’s broken again by the whizz of a bullet passing by.

She sees it before she hears it, however. The shot bores a hole through the pilot’s helmet and out the other side, shredding the flesh and bone between. For a moment, she just stares. It’s so clean. All the bloody mess is contained inside the helmet. It would have been instant, the bullet reaching his brain before the sound could reach his ears. A quick, merciful death you could be thankful for.

The moment of Hoyang’s death passes, and her brain kicks back into gear. A skilled shooter could have another shot ready in under a second. Which means she has to move. Her muscles creak as she moves from prone into a half-sprint, half-crouch. But all she needs to do is make it over the ridge, which she does – the snow’s there to break some of her fall, so even her awkward landing isn’t so bad.

There’s a second shot – she can hear it whistling, then the crack of the sonic boom enmeshed with the crack of bark splintering. Hyojin joins her in the gully, gasping for breath after having hauled herself, weapon and all, into cover.

“Where are they?”

“From the sound….probably…around north-north-west. Good bunch of trees there too. That’s where I’d be.” She draws a breath, tries to recall the shot - the crack of the supersonic bullet passing by, the tiny silence before the echoing boom of the rifle. “They’re not far. Maybe five hundred metres or so.”

“Any smokes?”

“I’ve got…one.”

“Shit.”

The path to freedom is right in front of her – the gully in front of her running south, through the trees – just dense enough to make running difficult, not dense enough to hide them from a sniper’s eye. Ahead, the ground drops away, and that’s where safety is.

“No way we make it down through the forest without getting seen.” What she wouldn’t give for backup right now - standard counter-sniper tactics weren’t written for a squad of two. She palms the smoke grenade, gets ready to throw. “This is all we’ve got. We make a break for it – use the smoke and the gully for cover. Keep moving, and once we make it over the second ridge, we should be good. Unless this sniper has a chopper support.”

“Just throw it.” Hyojin states.

It’s a lazy toss, the grenade arcing slowly through the air before it lands in the dirt. This wasn’t a plan. This was a desperate gambit. A second sniper team, from the north-east. Thermal vision. A drone overhead, silently observing. So many things could go wrong. But none of that matters.

“You ready?” She squeezes Ahn Hyojin’s hand, looks to her, and gets to her feet.

“Yeah. Go!”

She runs. Her boots crash through the undergrowth as she pounds the hard-packed snow, sprinting as fast as she can, weaving between the trees. She sees the ridge, sees safety below, and she leaps. Her body hits the ground hard. The snow isn’t soft and neither is the kit she’s carrying, and she’s left to roll over in pain.

Hyojin’s running after her, weighed down by her weapon but still giving everything she has. She takes the same leap, and for a moment she’s frozen in the air -

The shot hits Hyojin in the back. Jeonghwa watches it exit in slow motion, red exploding from her unnie’s chest as the bullet tears through flesh, before blowing through the armour. Hyojin falls forward, toppling over the ridge to land face first into the soft snow.

Jeonghwa runs over, turning over her friend, her sister. The bullet’s passed right through her armour, opening a hole in her chest. Blood drips from Hyojin’s lips as she opens her mouth to speak –

“Shhh. Don’t – don’t talk. M-might be a punctured lung.” She’s seen the pictures, seen what bullets do to bodies. Knows how long it takes for exsanguination – or worse – to finish someone off. And she knows that Hyojin is running out of time. Yet still, her unnie refuses to give up, gripping onto the machine gun tight, staring back at her with that same determination as always. She knows there’s not long until her Hyojin bleeds out. Or  until she’ll hear boots stamping through the woods, and probably a hail of bullets soon after.

And yet she has to stay. She pulls the trauma kit from her Hyojin’s combat webbing and tries to keep her hands from shaking, feeling a rising panic in her chest as she tries bandage the ragged hole. Her hands are red now, fingers shaking, struggling to hold on to just one life – the same ones that have snatched away so many others. She’s finished with her bandage, but she knows it’s not enough – the maroon soaking through the gauze.

 “Run – please – run –“ Hyojin coughs, blood on her lips, dripping down her chin. And yet – there’s a smile there too. This is the last she can do.

Jeonghwa takes her weapon and runs. Her heart burns in her chest, but she doesn’t look back. 


	5. Epilogue

Time to get comfortable. She folds out the bipod on her rifle, sets it down on the floor at the edge of the building. Beneath her, hundreds of metres below, is the city. Her city.

She sights up, dialling the range in to the rooftops she can see from here. Six hundred metres to that Samsung billboard. Eight hundred to the one with Lotte World ad. Three hundred to that air-con unit. And she talks.

“How are you, unnie?”

“I’m fine. You should be worrying about yourself. You don’t have that much water, you need to stay hydrated.” Of course. Typical Ahn Hyojin.

“I’ve got…enough. And it’s not like the taps here are going to be working.”

“It’s an office building. You walked past a water cooler on the way up here, you idiot.”

“Fine, I’ll go back and get it later.”

Her radio crackles – it’s the squad she’s covering. “Archer Two-One, do you copy?”

“Archer Two-One copies, go ahead,” she replies, settling into her place prone on the floor.

“Spotted movement ahead, apartment building, uhh, intersection of Cheongdam and Fifth, upper few floors.”

“Copy that. Looks like...enemy presence, roof and upper floors.”

“Suppress on my mark…mark.”

She sights up and pulls the trigger. She misses, but it doesn’t matter – they’re keeping their heads down, which lets her team move up.

“Moving up, engage as you see fit.”

“Roger that, Archer Two-One out.”

It’s time to get to work.

“Cheonggu apartment building, two o’clock, nine hundred metres. Small infantry squad on the roof, six targets.”

Hyojin’s voice is so calm in her ear. Those smooth tones, voice steady and even.

“Daekyu Centre, 11 o’clock, seven hundred metres. Machine gun, by the sandbags.”

The hours blur together. Just her, Hyojin, and her rifle. She counts time by the bullet, counting out the casings stacking up on the desk, counting the empty mags she sets aside.

“CBL Corp. building rooftop, 12 o’clock, 1.1k. Anti-aircraft missile launcher, three crew.”

It’s so peaceful here – the cool air, her unnie lying by her side. And she has this to keep her occupied.

 

///

 

“Archer Two-One, Archer Two-One do you copy?”

Her radio continues to buzz in her ears. “Archer Two-One copies. Go ahead.”

“Hunter Five-Five is in your area. Exfil on the roof of your building.”

“Roger that. I’ll be right up, Archer Two-One out.”

Time to leave. If she’s lucky, rest, if she’s not, it’s off to another battlefield. Not that she has any say in the matter. She moves to pack up – folding the bipod on her rifle, stowing empty mags back in her carrier, and retrieving anything else she might need.

“Are you coming?”

“No, not this time. Someone should stay, make sure it’s secure here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be alright. Now go.”

Her unnie stays by her side as she takes the stairs up to the helipad. It’s almost peaceful up here, the dust and smoke giving the sunset a vivid glow. There’s flashes off in the distance, some conflagration in progress. Maybe that’s where she’s needed, maybe not. The Blackhawk chopper swoops in, the side door already open. Inside, one of the crewmen motions for her to board, and she climbs on, taking the last seat there.

Her ride begins to ascend and she looks down to the roof, sees a figure in white standing there. It’s Ahn Hyojin in her arctic fatigues, smiling and waving back. Her guardian angel, with a red hole where her heart should be.


End file.
